


How the West Was Won

by keerawa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Community: spn_bitesized, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-06
Updated: 2010-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a life here. Just ... none of it feels like <i>his</i> life. Nothing has, since the day he woke up in a hospital bed with the name Sam Harvelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How the West Was Won

**Author's Note:**

  * For [facetofcathy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/gifts).



> Written for the [](http://syndicated.livejournal.com/spn_bitesized/profile)[**spn_bitesized**](http://syndicated.livejournal.com/spn_bitesized/) AU Challenge for [](http://facetofcathy.livejournal.com/profile)[**facetofcathy**](http://facetofcathy.livejournal.com/)'s Sam Harvelle prompt.

Sam is lying on his back under the bar sink, trying to unclog the garbage disposal, when he hears the outside door slam open. “We’re closed,” he yells, resigned to being interrupted. Hunters expect Harvelle’s to be open any time they blow through, 24-7, 365 days a year. Mom stopped locking the place up last year, when some asshole kicked the door in to get a beer at five in the morning.

Solid footsteps approach. Sam slides his way out from under the sink with a sigh.

“That’s okay, I was just hoping for a little info,” the man says, leaning over the bar and reaching a hand down to Sam.

Sam wipes his hands off on his jeans, grabs hold, pulls himself up, and looks the guy over. White, in his mid-twenties, which is enough to kick off his usual internal checklist. Green eyes and freckles, two in the plus column. It’s pathetic. Sam knows that. He’s not a kid any more, waiting around for his big brother to come walking through the door any minute.

Sam has a family here. A home. A full-ride at Stanford, double-majoring in psychology and business. A life. Just ... none of it feels like _his_ life. Nothing has, since the day he woke up in a hospital bed with the name Sam Harvelle, Dad and Dean long-gone.

 _“Your Dad didn’t have any choice,” Mom told him. “You were in the hospital for weeks. Long enough for lots of questions about how a twelve-year old boy got torn up so bad. Long enough for the insurance claims to bounce. If he’d stayed, the law would’ve been on him.”_

 _“But why didn’t they come back and get me later, when I was better?”_

 _“Well … it never did make much sense, raising a boy on the road like that. No stability, in and out of schools. He obviously couldn’t keep you safe. Besides,” she’d said, pulling Sam tight against her. “John Winchester took something from us. Only right that he give something back.”_

“My Dad sent me,” the stranger is saying. He’s wearing a worn brown leather jacket and some kind of necklace. No, an amulet. A bronze face, spiked. It’s … Sam knows that amulet. His heart starts to pound. He gave that amulet to his brother for Christmas, eleven years ago.

“I’m looking for someone,” the man, Dean, says, “a guy -”

“Me!” Sam yells, grinning like a lunatic. If it weren’t for the bar between them he’d be hugging his brother right now, because Dean finally came for him.

“Uh,” Dean says, smiling awkwardly and backing away a little, “okay, that was easy. You’re Joe Harvelle?”

In Sam’s head, things crash to a stop. Because, yeah, Dad wrote a few times a year, kept tabs on Sam. But Dean never sent so much as a postcard.

 _“I don’t think your brother even knows you’re here,” Jo told Sam as he packed for Stanford last fall. They’d thrown a big going away party for him at the bar. Mom said she’d sent word to the Winchesters about his scholarship, the party. For some stupid reason, he’d thought they might show up._

 _“What makes you such a fucking expert,” he’d asked bitterly._

 _“Me and Mom spent a week sitting by your hospital bed with Dean. I mean, I was only a kid, but he was … pretty intense. Bet Mom and John never even told him. Probably thought he’d kidnap you back at gunpoint or something.”_

Maybe Jo was right. Maybe not. He's not going to risk this chance to get to know Dean to find out. It’s a tribute to Sam’s early training in dealing with teachers and social services that his smile dims, but doesn’t entirely slip off his face. “Yep, that’s me, Joe Harvelle. What can I do for you?”

Dean looks at him for a second, and then pulls an envelope out of his coat pocket. “So I’ve been following this pattern of kills outside of Cheyenne. At first I thought I was dealing with a pack of Chupacabra, but … look at these wounds,” he says, laying morgue shots and news clippings down on the bar.

Sam focuses on them. Mom hates the idea of her kids hunting. They fight about it, all the time. Doesn't want to lose him or Jo to it, like she did her husband Bill. But Sam’s dad and brother had already started training him, before he was stupid enough to get hurt. He kept up the PT, every day. He and Jo have practiced together over the years. Walker and other hunters passing through are often willing to teach a bit of lore or a new combat technique to an appreciative audience.

“Vampire,” Sam concludes, looking at the photos. “And a new one, since its killing on the spot like that. Messy and wasteful. The more experienced ones drag their victims off to a nice private place, feed off them for days.”

“Right!” Dean says, “I figured it had to be. Only I thought vampires were extinct. I called my Dad, and he sent me your way, said you were the only hunter he could think of that might know about vamps and wasn’t completely bat-shit crazy.”

“Just half-way,” Sam agrees tightly. Dad probably didn’t realize that Sam would be home on spring break when he sent Dean here.

Dean shrugs, “Between you and your priest, man. So, any tips on how I track this thing, how to kill it?” He’s already packing up his pictures, glancing towards the door.

“Yeah,” Sam says, hopping the bar in a move that has stopped more than one bar fight cold. “Bring a partner.”

Dean shakes his head no. “Appreciate the offer,” he says, “but I’m more the lone wolf type.”

Sam steps forward, a little too close, making Dean look up. “That’s too bad. ‘Cause vampires? They never hunt alone. That baby vamp’s got a Mommy or Daddy that made it. Vampires travel with mates, nests, extended families. You’ve got anywhere from two to twenty vamps waiting for you in that town. Sunlight barely slows them down, a stake to the heart won’t kill them, and bullets just piss them off. And if you don’t get them all? The ones that are left will catch your scent, and then they’ll hunt _you_ down. There's a reason there’s not many hunters around willing to go after these fuckers.”

Dean tilts his head, eyes hard, and says, “I can handle myself.”

And Sam knows, he _knows_ that when Dean feels cornered he pushes back. So he slouches back against the bar. “Whatever. Just, leave a picture when you go. Mom’s got a memorial wall full of ugly-ass hunters out back. She might want to stick your face up there when you’re vamp chow, pretty the place up some.”

Dean stares at him, then huffs a laugh. “Asshole.” He hesitates. “I’m Dean, by the way. You, uh, really want to come?”

Mom is going to freak out. Sam tried for eight years to be everything she wanted in a son. But now, this – this he wants for himself. Lucky Charms, sleeping curled up in the Impala, Dean’s hands curling his around a pistol grip. He’s gonna earn a place on that fucking wall. Sam nods, mouth dry.

Dean tries to scowl at him. “Fine. I’m going out to my car. Got ‘How the West Was Won’ in the tape deck. I’m listening to ‘Dazed and Confused’, and then I’m taking off,” he challenges Sam.

“25:25? Not a problem. I’ll be out in ten,” Sam answers.

When Ellen gets back from the store, the parking lot is empty. Sam’s Abnormal Psych textbook is sitting on the bar. There’s a note under it.

Mom –  
Gone with Dean. Sorry.  
Give Jo a hug for me.  
Sam

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How the West Was Won (Since I've Been Loving You Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/177348) by [EllieMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki)
  * [How the West Was Won (the Going to California Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/338060) by [EllieMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki)




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